Sarah
Sarah, you should sit down. Please.”
That was how Thomas began. He gestured toward the two chairs beside
the window that overlooked the piazza, but it was I alone who sat.
It was half past noon, and here was my brother, the au courant of
Charleston barristers, interrupting his lawyering to speak with me in the
privacy of my room. His face was pale with what I took to be dread.
Naturally, my mind went to Father. One could scarcely look at him
these days without worrying about him, this thin, hollowed-out man with
the uncertain gait and erratic hand. Despite that, there’d been some
improvement lately, enough that he’d returned to his duties on the bench.
Just the week before, I’d come upon Father laboring along the main
passage with his cane. It had conjured up an old Sunday School image from
our catechism of Lazarus hobbling from the tomb with his shroud cleaving
to his ankles. Father’s left hand was shaking as if waving to a passerby, and
before he saw me, he grabbed it violently, trying to subdue it. Noticing me,
he said, “Oh, Sarah. God is ruthless to the aged.” I walked with him to the
back door, moving with a corresponding slowness that only called attention
to his feebleness.
“So tell me, when will you marry?” It was the only question anyone
ever asked me now, but coming from Father, it brought me to a standstill.
I’d been promised to Burke since last February, and not once had Father
even mentioned it. I hadn’t blamed him for missing the engagement party,
which Thomas and Sally had graciously hosted—he’d been bedridden then
—but there’d been so many months of silence since.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Burke is waiting on his father to assign the
business over to him. He wants to be in the proper position.”
“Does he?” His tone was sardonic, and I made no attempt to answer.
It was difficult now to remember those times when Father had let me
plunder his books and basked in my speeches. There’d been a kind of
invisible cord running between us then, and I tried to think exactly when

it’d been broken. The day he forbade me books? Thomas’ farewell party,
when he hurled his vicious words? You shame yourself. You shame us all.
Where did you get the notion that you could study the law?
“I remind you, Sarah, there is no divorce law in our state,” he was
saying. “Once you are married, the contract is indissoluble. You are aware
of this?”
“Yes, Father, I know.”
He nodded with what seemed like bleak acceptance.
That was where my mind alighted in those final moments before
Thomas delivered his news, upon Father and my last encounter with him,
upon his frailty.
“You’ve always been my favorite sister,” Thomas said. “You know that.
In truth, you’ve been the favorite of all my siblings.”
He paused, stalling, gazing through the window across the piazza into
the garden. I watched a drop of perspiration slide to his temple and cling in
the net of wrinkles that was already forming. A strange resignation settled
on me. Whatever it is, it has already happened.
“. . . Please, I’m not as fragile as you might think. Tell me plainly.”
“You’re right. I will simply say it. I’m afraid Burke Williams has
misrepresented himself to you. It has come to my attention that he has other
female acquaintances.”
Without considering the hidden entendre, I said, “Surely, that’s not a
crime.”
“Sarah, these acquaintances—they’re also his fiancées.”
I knew suddenly what he said was true. So many things made sense
now. The delay in naming a marriage date. The incessant trips he made to
visit family or conduct business. The curious fact that someone so full of
looks and charm had settled on me.
My eyes filled. Thomas dug for his handkerchief and waited while I
dabbed them dry.
“How did you learn of this?” I asked, composed, no doubt protected by
the recoil of shock.
“Sally’s cousin Franny in Beaufort wrote to say she’d attended a soirée
there and seen Burke openly courting a young woman. She didn’t approach
him, of course, but she did discreetly question the young woman, who told
her Burke had recently proposed.”

I looked down at my lap, trying to absorb what he’d said. “But why?
Why would he do this? I don’t understand.”
Thomas sat and took my hands. “He’s one of those men who prey on
young ladies. We hear of this kind of thing now. There’s a fast-set of young
men acquiring fiancées in order to—” He paused. “To lure women into
sexual liaisons. They assure the women that given the promise of wedlock,
such compromises are acceptable.” He could barely look at me. “I trust he
didn’t take advantage—”
“No,” I said. “He did not.”
Thomas exhaled with relief that embarrassed me in its extravagance.
“. . . You said fiancées. Beside the acquaintance in Beaufort, there’s
another?”
“Yes, I believe she lives in Savannah.”
“And how did you learn of this one? Not another cousin, I hope.”
He gave me a weak smile. “No, this one I heard of from Burke himself.
I confronted him last evening. He admitted to both young ladies.”
“You confronted him? But why didn’t you let me—”
“I wanted to spare you the pain and disgrace. Both of our parents agreed
you should be left out of it. There’s no reason for you to see him again. I’ve
broken the engagement on your behalf.”
How could you? He’d usurped any chance I had for personal retribution.
In that moment, I felt more enraged by Thomas’ babyish protection than by
Burke’s cruelty. I sprang to my feet and stood with my back to him, almost
gagging on mouthfuls of jumbled, scathing words.
“I know how you must feel,” he said behind me. “But it’s better this
way.”
He knew nothing of how I felt. I wanted to shout at him for uttering so
arrogant a claim, but when I whirled about, I saw his eyes were filled with
tears and I forced myself to speak with civility. “. . . I would like to be
alone. Please.”
He stood. “There’s one more thing. You’ll need to withdraw from public
for a brief time. Mother believes three weeks will be sufficient for the talk
to die down. Then you can return to society.”
He left me by the window, engulfed with anger and mortification, and
with nowhere to hurl it except at myself. How could I have fallen prey to
such a lascivious person? Was I so besotted, so needy, so blind that I
imagined he loved me? I could see myself in the glare of the window, the

flushed, round face, Father’s long nose, the pale eyes, the mis-colored hair.
I’d clipped a piece of that hair for him. He must have laughed at that.
I went to my desk and retrieved the letter with his proposal of marriage.
I didn’t read it again, I tore it into as many pieces as I could manage. The
tatters fell onto the desktop and the rug and the folds of my skirt.
It was the time of year when migrating crows wheeled across the sky,
thunderous flocks that moved like a single veil, and I heard them, out there
in the wild chirruping air. Turning to the window, I watched the birds fill
the sky before disappearing, and when the air was still again, I watched the
empty place where they had been.